


As She Said

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Angst, Consoling, Death of a loved one, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: "And what's worse," he says, throat tight in emotion, "Is were the roles reversed, you would not be here."





	

The window is open, letting in the faint light from the stars slip into the room. The curtain billows softly in the gentle breeze, and all is silent and still save for the soft, shaky sobs from the bed.

Bulma lay atop the covers, curled into the fetal position as she stares out the widow into the darkness, tears streaming down her face.

Goku, her best friend, is dead.

It's strange, how desensitized to death she has become. In the years since first discovering the dragon balls, death has been a momentary absence, rectified by a monstrous dragon whose presence made the earth shake and the sky darken. A simple wish reversing what science had once deemed final.

Bulma knows about the process of death, but ever since the dragon had risen from the seven balls to reverse the natural order of things- magic triumphing over her once infallible science- she's long since forgotten the permanency of it.

Friends, ex-lover, even countless lives she'd never meet or know, have been slain and reborn by the dragon, not to mention an entire planet of citizens living as the embodiment of the legendary Phoenix, rising again from the ashes to start anew.

Death has been a brief, fleeting loss, as if the person in question had simply stepped away for a few days and came back relatively no worse for wear.

But Goku rejected their wish, and suddenly the heavy weight of what death truly is had come crashing down on her, leaving her breathless and full of sorrow as her once concrete belief that her friend would never leave her was shattered like glass.

She can't even begin to fathom how Gohan and Chi-Chi feel. Her own grief is paralyzing; how would the actual family Goku left behind handle the loss of a man who'd never truly been a part of this world to begin with?

A few more stray tears slip down her cheeks at the thought of the Son family alone, and that thought gently takes her hand and leads her down the path that ends with a thought of her own family.

Her son- the one from the future- is gone too. Not dead (anymore), but returned to his own time, where the likelihood that he will survive is as slim as ever. Bulma hopes her son can beat the odds now that he's trained with the best and had assisted in the destruction of Cell-

She shudders at the name. Not even Frieza had disturbed her this much; and nothing had been quite so terrifying as him. But Cell had been a monster in the truest, most vile sense. He had been ruthless, cruel, and took away so much from her.

He's taken away so much from everyone.

Most has been restored, thank Kami, but there is still a gaping hole in Bulma's chest, one that bears the name-

"Goku, you idiot," she whispers.

"Agreed."

Startled, Bulma wipes her eyes and glances over her shoulder to see Vegeta standing in the doorway, looking lost and uncertain, as if this room is an entirely new planet and he's not certain if it's yet safe.

Bulma says nothing, knowing her voice will be too trembling and the last thing she wants is to hear Vegeta call her weak for mourning over his rival.

How had she come to stand in the middle of two men who hated each other (or rather, one side hated the enough for the two of them). How had her heart led her to love one as a brother and the other as-

She isn't ready to put a name to that yet. She's too tired. Instead she lays back down, rolling over so that she faces him instead of the window. "You came back." Her voice is raspy and wavering.

He doesn't answer her; he doesn't look at her. After a moment, Bulma resigns herself to the silence and rolls over to face the window again. Whether he's silent because he has nothing to say or because he wants to let her grieve in peace, she doesn't know. And really, she doesn't care. Vegeta is here- alive- and for the moment that's more than enough for her. But Goku is gone, and that's a fact she can't quite make herself accept just yet.

After a few minutes, Bulma thinks maybe he's left. But then the bed shifts and she feels the weight of Vegeta lying down next to her. He radiates warmth, a welcome change from the cold that has settled in the room and in her bones. She is full of grief but still somehow empty, another paradox to leave her questioning the world that once made sense.

The silence stretches and Bulma remains still, wishing all sorts of things and knowing that while a wish can be granted, the one she wants most cannot come to pass.

What good is wishing then?

"He died with honor," Vegeta says eventually, voice soft but gruff, and if Bulma were a gambler, she might bet that at some point in the hours after Goku's true death, Vegeta cried too. "He was a true Saiyan warrior."  
  
"You hate him," Bulma murmurs, pain etching her voice into a mere hitch of breath.

"Yes," Vegeta agrees, "But today he proved his worth. I've no choice but to respect him."

"He's _dead_ ," Bulma remarks, not meaning to let out such harsh words, but unable to stop them. "I'd sacrifice your respect for him in an instant if it would bring him back."

Vegeta grunts in annoyance and for a moment Bulma wonders if he might leave. She's in no mood to deal with his puzzling ways. He's always been an enigma, but today she has no mind for puzzles.

"You love him."

That makes Bulma jerk, body shifting quickly as she moves, balancing on her elbow to face the Saiyan lying beside her. "What?"

He is lying on his back, hands at his sides, head turned up toward the ceiling. "Kakarot. You love him."

She isn't sure if this is a question or an accusation. She's not sure how to answer. Of course she loves Goku, and as strong and deep as that love goes, it's never been romantic; there's no longing there- save for his return. She's never harbored feelings for the man; he's always been the child wonder she met so long ago, and even when he grew into a handsome man whose body was fit to outshine any marbled sculpture, she had only appreciated it from a platonic, and mostly scientific, regard.

But Vegeta is right. She loves Goku. Immeasurably.

"What does that have to do with-"

"Everything," Vegeta says shortly. "It has to do with everything."

There is something brimming beneath the surface of the Saiyan prince, but unlike a frog or robot, Bulma has no idea how to begin dissecting him to get to the core issue.

So she tries, "Goku is my brother."

Vegeta scoffs at that. "You said it yourself. Kakarot is an idiot."

"I thought you respected him now," she snaps hotly, hating herself for crying in front of Vegeta. The tears fall regardless.

"I respect him; I do not like him."

"Fair enough." She flops onto her back and sighs.

"My purpose died with him," Vegeta admits at last. "I told myself I would defeat him; I would be stronger than him. And now he is dead. Died honorably to save this blasted planet, while I yet live, constantly reminded of my every failure."

His hands clench in time with Bulma's heart. Vegeta has never been a man of many words, but in their brief time together, he's slowly opened up to her, learning to express himself in ways that hadn't been beating something to a pulp. He's exercising that lesson now, unprompted and uncensored, knowing that she is the only human- only creature in the vast galaxy- that won't judge him for his words.

"Vegeta-"

"And what's worse," he says, throat tight in emotion, "Is were the roles reversed, you would not be here."

It takes her a moment to solve that puzzle, but when the pieces fall into place and she understands his meaning, her pain increases tenfold. She doesn't reach out to comfort him, doesn't pull him to her and try in a panic to disparage his fears; instead she settles onto her side and stares at the proud warrior who has laid himself bare before her; a greater gift she has never known. He won't admit it, but he's processing his grief. And whereas hers takes place in trying to make sense of the illogical, Vegeta's is trying to make sense of himself.

"You have our son," she says softly, slowly, watching him with the same unblinking gaze she fixes upon her experiments. "The heir to the Saiyan throne."

"A throne to a race that no longer exists."

"You exist," She whispers, pained.

He gives her a side-long glance at that, brow creasing slightly.

"You are a true Saiyan," she continues, "And your son needs you to recognize the full potential that lies within him. He needs his father, his prince, to show him the way."

Vegeta is silent, contemplating, understanding the truth in between the lines. "It is a noble purpose, I suppose," he says at length.

"It is the most noble, to be there for ones family." Bulma tries to hide the bitterness she feels at knowing Goku has- despite his honorable intentions- abandoned his wife and son. Vegeta may have blasted off in a pod for several months, but at least- after the dust from the battle settled- he came home.

Slowly, uncertainly, she tells him this too. And the look on his face when she declares him noble reminds her that her words are the first kind ones he's ever heard directed toward him.

Her heart breaks all over again.

"Kakarot is protecting his family as best he knows how," Vegeta says with stumbling words, unused to speaking favorably of his rival.

"Yes," Bulma agrees, "But you're here."

She can see the battle going in his mind- the idea that his presence is wanted, enjoyed, cherished is too spectacular for him to accept. He doesn't know how to simply be, how to live peacefully when his whole life has been spent jumping from one battle to the next, fighting a never ending and nameless war, with no rest or reprieve to sooth his nightmares. He's fought tirelessly, and now he's restless, unsure what to do with himself now that his rival is gone.

The death of Goku is the death of Vegeta's purpose. Vegeta strove to be the best, pushed by a deeply set sense of honor and pride, to make certain his name- the Saiyan name- was not mocked or forgotten. However skewed his motivation, it had been his driving force, and now he's been slammed into a metaphorical brick wall.

Bulma knows the feeling. She's not certain how they'll go on, knowing Goku chose death over them. It's not meant to be a selfish gesture, she knows this. But she looks at Vegeta, who is lying rigid and unmoving beside her, and she curses Goku- not for the first time- for his choice.

But Vegeta's made a choice too. He's here, sharing her bed, confessing things she's certain he never thought he'd admit to. And Bulma can't thank Kami enough that this man chose to come back to her. They'd walked a rough and unsteady path, but they'd walked it nonetheless, and whether out of a sense of duty or something else entirely, Vegeta came back to her.

Losing Goku and finding Vegeta makes Bulma realize just how lucky she truly is. How lucky they all are. She could have lost him; the alternate her already has. There was no room for the seeds planted between them to grow in that world, but here, Vegeta is alive, and he's here of his own volition, and Bulma knows to count this as a victory despite the sorrow.

The sorrow will be there in the morning. But Vegeta is here right now, and she doesn't know how long this will last.

Scooting closer to him, he doesn't protest when she curls against him, arm stretching across his chest, fingers idly toying with the material of his spandex. He adjusts himself so that he can wrap his arm around her, grip careful but still so strong.

Bulma's never felt safer than when nestled in the grip of a man who could crush her with hardly a thought.

She presses herself to him as much as possible, and when she's satisfied that she's as close to him as she can be, whispers, "And you're wrong, you know."

He hates being told he's wrong, and his body tenses at her words. But he waits, silently, for her to continue. "I dread the day, but when the time comes, I will mourn you too."

Bulma thinks that her promise to mourn him is the most sincere declaration of her affection she can give him. To have him know she will see him off to whatever battle next calls him, and will rejoice his victory and mourn his defeat. It is what she thinks a true warrior's wife might do. And since she is not Saiyan and cannot fight, she will do it. She's not useless; her gravity machine is testament to that, but just as Vegeta and Goku see honor in dying for their cause, Bulma sees honor in waiting for the triumphant return of her soldier.

His gaze turns sharply to her, and the look in his dark eyes tells her that she's said the right thing. "What?"

"I will mourn you someday. Inconsolably, I imagine."

He stares at her with surprise, disbelief. "I would not deserve it," he says at last, hopeless, "Not like Kakarot does."

"And yet I'd do it anyway," she tells him, and then the reality sets in. Someday she will mourn him. It is not just a sentiment meant to bring comfort. It is a fact. The day will come when Vegeta will die, and no amount of wishing will be able to bring him back. It's a sobering, devastating thought, and suddenly overwhelmed, Bulma squeezes Vegeta to her and her tears let loose again.

"I don't want to, but I will. Oh, Kami, I will!" She cries, and the sorrow in her voice moves Vegeta more than anything he's ever felt before. He's not a sentimental man, not romantic or gentle, but Bulma's despondent plea shakes him to his core and he wraps his arms around her in a grip that is restrained but strong enough to let her know that he will not let her go.

"But you will," Vegeta repeats. She nods. "Then I no longer dread the day I die for good." He will be remembered; his legacy and memory carried on in her heart.

"Stupid Saiyan," she hiccups, but Vegeta says nothing in return, merely holds her as she lets loose her tears.

She weeps over Goku and the loss and the anger she feels, and she weeps for Vegeta, whose life is now an open space before him with a thousand and one possibilities, and out of all of them he is here, holding her and wetting her shoulder with his own silent tears, the loss of another one of his people just another failure to mark in his book. She weeps for herself, because she's strong but right now she isn't, and she hates this emptiness she feels, and she feels guilty for showing such weakness in front of Vegeta.

But he says nothing of it, merely holds her, and in the silence between her sobs she swears she can hear him whisper that it will be alright.

"I miss him so much," she confesses.

"I know. As do I," he admits, his own secret that none would believe and will never hear. Only Bulma knows the pattern of his soul, the broken mess that is his mind and heart, and though she knows two broken things will not make something whole, in this case perhaps it might. They're broken, the two of them, for the same and different reasons, and they fit together like cogs in their pain.

Maybe in time they'll heal. But until then, they have each other.

And later, by the time the wound called Goku has healed enough to no longer leave her breathless, he's back for one day- for a tournament, no less. And while there's occasion for joy in his brief return to earth, soon Bulma finds herself doing the one thing she's dreaded all these years:

She mourns for her husband.

And when she curls up in a spare room on Kami's lookout, window open to let in a breeze, it's to hold her son in her arms, and while she manages to comfort Trunks, she is inconsolable in her own grief.

Just as she said she would be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was depressing! 
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes.


End file.
